Nothing
Title: Nothing
Author: SnoopyScenester
Pairing; Billie/Tre
Rating: PG
Disclaimer; I own nothing but the words, which I don't really own anyways since I didn't invent the English language.
Summary: Tre reflects on his relationship with Billie.
Word Count: 239
You’re different tonight. You’re quiet; sinking into the background when you’re usually the center of everyone’s attention. You think I haven’t noticed. After all, I’m just Tre Cool, right? I’m the joke; the one who takes nothing seriously, least of all himself, and the one you can never confess your feelings to and expect to understand.
I suppose that last part’s true. I don’t understand you. I don’t understand how you can act like two completely different people. I don’t understand how you can smile sweetly at me and have my back against the wall and your nails scratching my face a second later. Who are you, Billie Joe?
There is one thing I get: one thing you made sure I understood. You left your mark in eyeliner on my bathroom mirror: the one I found only after I’d managed to untie myself from the Goddamn bedpost and stumbled into the bathroom to wash the taste of you away. You leave a bad taste in my mouth, you see, but it’s never as bad as it was when I looked in that mirror.
This ain’t love. This ain’t nothin.
You catch my eye from across the room, and I know exactly what you want. When Jason asks where the Hell I think I’m going, I tell him what you want to hear.
“Nothing.”
And I’ll meet you in the bathroom in five minutes.
Nothing’s different about tonight after all.
Author: SnoopyScenester
Pairing; Billie/Tre
Rating: PG
Disclaimer; I own nothing but the words, which I don't really own anyways since I didn't invent the English language.
Summary: Tre reflects on his relationship with Billie.
Word Count: 239
You’re different tonight. You’re quiet; sinking into the background when you’re usually the center of everyone’s attention. You think I haven’t noticed. After all, I’m just Tre Cool, right? I’m the joke; the one who takes nothing seriously, least of all himself, and the one you can never confess your feelings to and expect to understand.
I suppose that last part’s true. I don’t understand you. I don’t understand how you can act like two completely different people. I don’t understand how you can smile sweetly at me and have my back against the wall and your nails scratching my face a second later. Who are you, Billie Joe?
There is one thing I get: one thing you made sure I understood. You left your mark in eyeliner on my bathroom mirror: the one I found only after I’d managed to untie myself from the Goddamn bedpost and stumbled into the bathroom to wash the taste of you away. You leave a bad taste in my mouth, you see, but it’s never as bad as it was when I looked in that mirror.
This ain’t love. This ain’t nothin.
You catch my eye from across the room, and I know exactly what you want. When Jason asks where the Hell I think I’m going, I tell him what you want to hear.
“Nothing.”
And I’ll meet you in the bathroom in five minutes.
Nothing’s different about tonight after all.